


Intaglio

by morganfir



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Dark, F/M, but the are, dash of smut, for plot, i don't even know what they're arguing about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganfir/pseuds/morganfir
Summary: “Three hundred years ago, I came aboard this ship to retrieve my wife." His eyes scanned the shrouds and stays that held the mast upright. When he finally dared to look at her, his upper lip curled in disgust to see Killian Jones standing by her side. “Never thought I’d have to do it again.”
Rumplestiltskin is done watching his wife sleep on that pirate ship, but anger brings out the worst in her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on scenes from 6.04 "Strange Case"
> 
> Belle is kinda spiteful in this, but it's the only reasons my mind can come up with as why she's crashing with Hook on the Jolly Roger. I don't know why she's mad, she just is, which is partly canon anyway. And I'm ignoring that protective spell that was only used only to add more angst, because Hook ended up saving Belle anyway. -_-

Lacey had always been apart of herself, etched on her like a needle to copper, and regardless of how many times she scoured her soul clean, she remained. The barfly never needed justification for her cruelty, so Belle refused to show her husband one shred of sympathy as she simmered in her spite. She slept on the Jolly Roger, refusing to occupy the space her husband beautifully decorated and tastefully lit just to make a point. She turned to the pirate for protection, not because she trusted him, but because it was a slap in the face to his pride.

The ropes creaked as he climbed over the side of the ship. Her mouth watered with anticipation, eager to rub salt in the wound just by being there. When both of his feet hit the deck, Belle noticed his salt and pepper hair was cropped short. She would have complimented him if she didn't feel the magic buzzing around him like a swarm of bees, ready to lash out at the pirate if he even breathed wrong. He'd wanted to kill him for years, and Belle wondered if her presence would create the iceberg that sunk his ship. 

“Three hundred years ago, I came aboard this ship to retrieve my wife." His eyes scanned the shrouds and stays that held the mast upright. When he finally dared to look at her, his upper lip curled in disgust to see Killian standing by her side. “Never thought I’d have to do it again.” 

“Funny how all your wives leave you for me,” Hook replied, cocky and proud, as his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. “Are you going to tear her heart out too, Crocodile?”

Sometimes she forgot that he killed his first wife, tore out her heart and crushed it into dust. When she heard the mention Milah, she told herself that it was the Dark One that killed her, not her husband who smiled at her awful jokes or gifted her a stack of books when she was blue. She knew she couldn't use his magic to justify his crimes and then use it to persecute him, but it was so easy to do.

“What he fails to mention, in his twisted perception of the past, is that I offered to return Milah if he could beat me in a duel,” Hook explained, removing the sword from the sheath. “But he ran away with his tail between his legs. The coward wouldn’t even fight for his own wife.”

“I’m not here to fight you, I’m here to protect my wife,” he argued, scowling at the pirate before he turned his face to look at her stomach. “And my unborn child.”

“I don’t want your protection,” Belle told him, grimacing at the pride he radiated as he assumed the role of her knight in shining armor.

“You need it,” Rumplestiltskin spat. “Hyde is determined to use you against me—”

“I didn’t say I didn’t need it,” Belle interrupted, stepping forward as she instinctively placed her hand upon her stomach. She felt the wanted life there, under her hand like pulsating magic. A part of her wanted to tell him of that fascinating consciousness, but she wouldn't share a damn thing about her son with him. Not when he was teeming with darkness that could ruin them both. “I just don’t want it from you,” she corrected.

His jaw drops as he thrust his index finger towards the pirate beside her. “You mean you want _him_ to protect you?”

“He’s the only one who can,” Belle argued, hoping her words were like a sharp knife in the gut. 

“That’s a lie and you know it,” he hissed as his face contorts with anger.

It was a lie. Her list of family and friends was sprawling, all of them welcoming and understanding of her plight, but none of them sparked his rage like Killian Jones did. 

Instead of disputing that fact, Belle only smiled.

Rumplestiltskin’s hands clenched at his sides, trying to bottle the storm of emotions that could ravage Storybrook like a mighty twister.

“You hate me that much that you’d rather sleep on this barnacle-encrusted heap then in our home?” He sneered as he took a step towards her. The pirate tried to step between them, but Belle raised her hand out to hold him back. She wasn't afraid of her husband, as words were always his preferred weapons, and he taught her how to use them well.

Defiant, Belle lifted her chin to answer the question he already knew the answer to. 

“Fine,” he snarled, amazed by her spitefulness. “He can slander me as a coward for not fighting him for Milah, but the reason I didn’t pick up a sword is because I knew in my heart that there was nothing left to fight for."

When he turned his back on her, she felt the sting of his words. If her eyes was a crossbow, his back would be littered with more arrows than a target.

Her mind was silent as maliciousness conquered control over her tongue. “I can see why Milah preferred this ‘barnacle-encrusted heap’ over you!”

Rumplestiltskin stopped, spinning around to gape at her as if she was a stranger and not the woman that he married. There was a flicker of regret in her gut, but she smothered it with the endless memories that made her question why they were married in the first place.

He ticked his finger at her. “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that,” he commented, marveling the bitter creature she had become.

Rumplestiltskin stepped off the boat before she could spew out more nastiness from her lips. It grated on her the entire afternoon that he had the last word. She imagined all the things she wished she said, all the low jabs and heartless insults that would burn him. Hook tried to distract her by teaching her a hundred ways to tie a knot, but she spent her time repeating his words under her breath as she wrestled with the short piece of rope. He gave up, partly because she cared little for anchor and clove hitches, and partly because she wasn't Milah and knew that her heart was still full of him. 

When Killian saved her from Jekyll, it confirmed her meritless argument for staying on the Jolly Roger. She knew watching the pirate protect his family cut deeper than any sword, but Belle was far from satisfied. 

He strolled along the dock, not a stitch of his clothing out of place, nor sweat coating his brow. He looked as if he was returning from an uneventful day at the shop, instead of battling two-faced men from the Land of Untold Stories. She was resentful as she stood in her worn dress and an unkept braid in her hair, resisting the heavy spell of fatigue from the trying day.

“You cut your hair,” she said, her voice neutral so he couldn't tell if it was a compliment or an insult.

“I didn’t think you noticed,” he replied, sounding very much like the aloof pawnbroker that once ruled their town. “Between running away with your pirate and refusing my help.” 

Belle’s lip twitched when she heard him call Killian her pirate. “You really think everyone is out to get you?”

“Today just proves it,” he pointed out, speaking down to her as if she was one of his dimwitted pawns, or worse, Regina. It was the kindling she needed to restart the flame burning in her scorched heart. After all, that was the reason all of this happened.

“Don’t speak to me like one of your puppets,” Belle threatened.

“You want me to treat you like an equal?” Rumplestiltskin inquired, taking a step forward to close the giant gap between them. Belle tilted her head aside as she regarded the darkness in his eyes. “Then stop being so foolish and let me help you.”

“The only fool here is you,” Belle retorted with a snort. “I told you that I was fine with Killian, and he not only protected me, but he _saved_ me.” 

Rumplestiltskin fisted his hand as he let out a muffled groan, squashing the spike of rage her words invoked.

“Why are you even here?” Belle demanded, slapping her hands against her sides as she stared at her fuming husband. “I thought there 'wasn’t anything left to fight for,'” she threw back at him. 

“You don’t think I’d fight for you?” Rumplestiltskin demanded, huffing through his nostrils. 

Belle narrowed her eyes, unable to picture him with anything but that cursed dagger in his hand. “Would you?”

“I’d burn this whole town down just to prove my love to you!” He roared, furious that she even doubted it.

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to be with you!” She screamed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I know that you’d do it, I know you'd set fire to this entire town to get what you want! I refuse to be responsible for the reprehensible choices you make!” 

“Belle—” 

“But you know what’s the most terrible thing?” Belle interrupted, taking a step forward as she felt tears brimming in the corner of her eyes. “If I had been Milah all those years ago, I know you wouldn’t have fought for me either.” 

Rumplestiltskin wobbled as if his crooked knee had magically returned.

“How could you say that?” He croaked as he took a step back, retreating from her hurtful vitriol. “How could you believe that?”

“Because you’ve always solved your problems with magic, Rumple. You love that dagger more than anything else, and I think you know it too.” Belle swallowed, refusing to feel guilty for the doubts she carried. "Just leave, I don't need you here."

“Right,” he hissed, shaking his head as he turned to walk away. “No,” he told himself as he spun around, marching so he stood only inches away from her. “Um…you may not think that you need me, Belle, but you will. You forget who fathered the child you’re carrying. He will have a mark on his head by the virtue of who he is, and if you want to protect him, you will come back to me.”

Just like that, Rumplestiltskin showed his true colors.

“Threats won’t make me love you again,” she promised.

An arrogant smile lifted his lips. “Isn’t that what made you fall in love with me in the first place?” 

Belle paled as Rumplestiltskin's words washed over her like a bucket of ice water. 

“You make such a fuss condemning me for my magic, but you're silent when you get to reap the benefits,” he countered, tilting his head aside as he examined her face with scathing eyes. “Your library of rare books, a closet full of fine clothes, gourmet dinners with vintage wines, holiday weekends in an enchanted mansion? I suppose your vanity allows for some exceptions.”

“I’m not vain,” Belle argued, her nostrils flaring.

“Ah, so you’d still love me if I was poor spinner and we lived in some hovel?” He questioned, flicking his hand like he was the imp again. By disguising his pain with theatrical gestures, she immediately she knew it was a genuine doubt that he harbored in his heart.

“I never asked you for those things,” Belle insisted, her face softening as she discovered a fear she never knew he had.

“You’re right,” he acquiesced with a nod. “I pay the price for such magic, and I never ask for anything in return. But don’t think for a moment that we both know the truth, _Princess of Avonlea_ _._ "

They were husband and wife, lived with each other for years, shared the same bed, drank from the same cup, but they were still practically strangers.

“No, I think you love my darkness,” he claimed with conviction as he conquered the space that kept them apart. Belle couldn’t look away from his bewitching eyes as he drove her backwards, step after step, until her back flatted against a wooden beam. She could slip away, push him back and tell him to stop, but she remained silent and still as the blood roared in her ears.

“From the first moment we met, I think you were drawn to it,” he whispered as he fished his warm hand up the hem of her short dress. "Like a moth to a flame."

Belle welcomed his seeking affection by spread her legs. He laughed, his breath wafting against her face, as if she proved his point. 

“See?” He crooned as he pressed the pad of his fingers against a wet patch in her underwear. She shivered when she heard his accent thicken as he mercilessly teased her. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop," he whispered.

Belle remained silent, too stubborn to admit that she wanted more than just the ghosting touch of his fingers between her thighs.

“But I won’t do more unless you ask me to,” he told her, stilling his fingers despite Belle keeping her legs apart.

It was more about welcoming his touch, but about accepting that a little bit of his darkness lived and flourished inside of her heart. She’d spent years fighting for him to be a better man, whatever that was, and expecting a different outcome each time. Instead of continuing her insanity, she scoured away the blanket of denial and allowed the intaglio of her heart to shine true. 

Remaining silent, Belle reached down and guided his hand to fully cup her. He let out a trembling breath as he rubbed her through the fabric of her underwear, savoring the heat she radiated between her legs. 

“I love you, regardless of what you think of me,” he whispered in her ear as he snuck his hand underneath her waistband, combing his fingers through her wiry hair.

She melted her back against the beam, uncaring if anyone saw her husband’s hand up her dress. Then she thumped her head against the pole, her eyes slamming shut when his fingers slipped between her folds. Rumplestiltskin hissed as his fingers lapped at her skin, coating his digits with her slick wetness. With a sound of pleasure escaping his lips, he slid two fingers slowly inside of her. Belle jerked at the feeling of his fingers stretching her, gradually and cautiously. Love blossomed in her heart at his considerate nature. No matter how desperate he was to seek his own pleasure, he always remembered the truths of her body, and how she needed his mindful attentions before she could easily accept him. It was selfless moments like these that washed away lingering doubts.

“You think I wouldn’t fight for you?” He questioned, sounding pained as pressed the flat of his palm against her throbbing clit. Belle let out a cry as her hands reached out to fist the lapel of his pressed jacket, uncaring if she ruined it by pulling him closer. “You think I wouldn’t pick up that sword, magic or not, and die trying?”

Belle pressed her lips together, muffling senseless cries as she realized the pain she inflicted with her spiteful words. She didn't know why she let her anger get the best of her.

“I _know_ you would,” he said, assured, as he began to curl his fingers with every stroke. She rocked her hips into his hand, seeking out ever drop of pleasure while drawing near and near to her orgasm. Belle was overwhelmed by his skillful touch, lavishing her with precision and dedication. He knew exactly how much pressure she needed, and how she liked it slow and soft at first before quickening his pace.

“You fought your way back to me, time and time again. I know you’d never let anything stand in the way of our love,” he lauded as he rubbed his hand into her pelvic bone.

Belle bit her lip as she reached that delicious height of unbridled love. Then, it suddenly disappeared, the pulsing pleasure ebbing into an unsatisfied ache. Her eyes snapped open, clueless to why her blissful moment abruptly ended, and her jaw dropped to find nothing but Rumplestiltskin's smug smile beaming down at her.

His eyes were filled with wickedness as he lifted his wet fingers to his lips. Belle was thankful for the wooden beam to support her weight, for she surely would have fallen into the waters at the sight of her husband licking her wetness from his digits. She became breathless when he slowly removed his fingers from his lips, drawing back his bottom lip in the most seductive manner. When he licked his lips with the tip of his tongue, he hummed with delight as he savored her unique taste.

“When you’ve decided what you want, you’ll know where I’ll be,” her husband said before he walked away, leaving her ravished and speechless on the dock.

Smoothing the wrinkles in her dress, Belle wasn't sure if she ready to go home, but she understood that remaining on that ship would only cause more problems rather than solve them.

**Author's Note:**

> Hook says "they buried the hatchet" but I just can't believe that Rumple wouldn't be torn with emotions when he learned his wife was sleeping on his ship. Okay, so maybe he's over his animosity to Hook? It still must have reminded him how things ended with Milah, and then the show didn't go there. sigh. 
> 
> I'm sorry if they said some nasty things, or Belle was being overly spiteful, but sometimes people say and do awful things out of anger. *shrugs* Please don't send me hate mail for being pro/anti anyone.
> 
> It's unbeta'd so expect some mistakes.
> 
> find me at <http://morganfir.tumblr.com/>


End file.
